


Queen of Beacon Hills

by SmokeyMelons



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Cordelia Chase, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Unexpected Visitors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmokeyMelons/pseuds/SmokeyMelons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' "Cousin Cordy" is in need of a sabbatical. So Cordelia, her son Connor, and ward Dawn move to Beacon Hills.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This little drabble popped into my head one day and infected my brain.  
> Enjoy.  
> Set after 3A.

"Scotty, I need a favor," announces Stiles as he bumps shoulders with his best friend/brother/possible-hetero-lifemate.

"Kay, Stiles," mumbles his best friend/brother/definite-hetero-lifemate, clearly not awake yet.

"Scott, you're not even going to ask?" Demands Stiles, outraged at the lack of followup. "I could ask anything of you now. And you'd have to do it. That settles it. Today, at lunch, we are going to hop up on the tables and do the Macarena. We can get the whole school to join us - post the video on YouTube. Lydia can record it, cause obviously she's not gonna dance with us. And if we go viral, I'm seeing sequels in our future... I'm thinking the Chicken Dance. Maybe after that the Hokey-Pokey! Thriller would just be to ironic."

"Stiles!" Interrupts Scott, familiar with his friends rambling ways.

"Right, right. Point - Favor," responds Stiles, forcing himself back on track. "I need you to call a pack meeting. Today. After school. At your house. We need Derek. Ethan and Aidan too. Possibly even Creepy Uncle Peter. Possibly. Even though I'd personally kinda like to see him suffer." He finishes, daydreaming now.

"What, why! What happened?" rushes Scott, destroying Stiles' musings.

"Nothing... bad. I swear. It's just my cousin is coming."

"Oh, okay. That's good. More family for you and your dad," responds Scott, relieved.

"Scott, you're not getting it. My cousin is moving here. I only l have one cousin."

"Oh, shit!" curses Scott, "Stiles please, please tell me you're joking. She's not moving here."

"Yes, yes she is."

"Queen C is moving to Beacon Hills!"

"And now you're understanding the severity of the situation, Buddy." Stiles cheers, slapping his hands down on his bestie's shoulders.

Scott whimpers. Cordelia Chase was about to blow into town. It was time to batten down the hatches.


	2. Chapter Two

“Oh Stiles, thank god you have hair again. That buzz-cut made you look like a neglected Chiai Pet,” Is the first thing his cousin says to him after getting out of her classy classic convertible. 

“Yeah. Yeah, great to see you to Cordy. Finally ready to admit plaid is valid life-choice?”

“Not on your life,” she sniffs. Throwing her arms wide for a classic *Stilinski*Style* hug. 

“Where’s your puppy?” asks Cordelia, letting go. 

“What? No! See, I don’t have a puppy. Why would you ask about puppies? Not a dog person. Really, I’m not. Puppies?” babbles Stiles, confused. 

“Stiles, the one with the eyes and the jaw who follows you around like he’s hopelessly lost. What’s his face? Scott?” 

“Scott, you where asking about Scott. That is just so… nice of you. Why, why were you nice, what do you want?” Questions Stiles, immediately suspicious. Neither of the pair did nice for the sake of niceness. 

“I need you to do me a favor, Stiles.” His cousin intones. 

“What sort of favor?” is his immediate guarded response. He’s no dummy unlike certain, foolish, Scott-shaped people he could mention. 

“Dawn and Connor will be starting classes next week. And I want you to look out for them, make sure they’re not being harassed,” requests Cordelia, blandly. 

“Dawn and Connor? Who are they? Dad only mentioned you. I only warned my pa-friends about you.”

“You warned people about me, Stiles?” Demands Cordelia with narrowing eyes. 

“Oh Hell yes!” he blurts out, “kids still talk about what you did to Mr. Harris.” At her faintly puzzled expression he continues, “The guy hitting on you at Mom’s wake.”

“I remember him. He cried by the time I was through with him. Beyond tacky hitting on someone at a funeral.” She finishes considering her nails. 

“Yeah, good times,” he mumbles. Sometimes the memory is too closely associated with the loss of his mother. Others it’s the only thing to get him through a particularly hellish chemistry class. Harris was a dick. 

But back on topic, “Dawn and Connor?”

“Dawnie’s mom died last year. She needed somebody to lookout for her. Turns out Joyce, her mom, had terrible taste in men. That ex-husband of hers is a total skeeze-oid. Bastard couldn’t even be assed to send flowers to the funeral. And Connor would be my son,” Cordelia divulges. 

To Stiles this wasn’t sounding so bad. Little cousins could be fun. 

“Alright, but you know I’m in the high school, right? The elementary is in a completely separate building.”

“Kind of the point, Stiles,” is her sedate response. 

For a moment Stiles is puzzled, reviewing their conversation, “You bitch. Oh you absolute bitch. You tricked me.”

“I know,” his cousin gloats. 

“You’d think I’d have learned by now, but NoOOooOO. Those countless traumatic experiences that you call ‘life lessons,’ and you still got me! Damn it!” Though he does admit, if only to himself, that it was a diabolical plan, executed brilliantly. But still, he’s angry with his cousin. He doesn’t want to play mind-games with her right now. 

“That’s why Stiles, I’m the Queen and you are just a lowly lady in waiting,” affirms Cordelia. 

“How old are they then? Dawn and Connor? Hmmmm?” he haggles for more information, anything he can use. 

“Dawnie is 14 and Connor is 17, but according to placement tests they’ll both be finishing the year with your sophomore class. Which is why you got drafted,” clarifies Cordelia. 

“Fine. Whatever. But I still wanna know, how the hell do you have teenagers Cordy?” squawks Stiles. 

“Hmmmm,” she considers, “Long story.” 

“Long story? Long story! That’s all I get? They’re my age Cordy!” clamors Stiles. 

“Fine, Stiles. Be that way. I know Dawn’s sister and I’ve known Dawnie since she was 8. Dawn wanted to stay in one place; her sister is spending the next year at least traveling for work. And I’ve already told you, Connor is my son. 

“He’s my age Cordy! You’re only like six years older than me.” He fumes. 

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse, Stiles. It’s unattractive. Did I ever claim to have given birth?” Cordelia asks calmly in that special way of hers meaning she’s close to drawing blood.

“No,” is his petulant response. 

“Well, there you go,” she states as if the matter is closed. 

“Then how’s he your kid?” he accuses, throwing caution to the wind. 

“Connor’s mine cause I made him mine, genius. And you will treat him like he is in fact mine, cause that’s what he is. Dumbass. Discussion over."

“But…” Stiles hedges. 

“Stiles, I know your real name. I know your name and I’m not afraid to use it. In public. In front of your friends.” Cordelia threatens. 

Oh crap. Like serious cat-crap. On burnt toast. She’d totally do it to. His cousin was vindictively vicious that way. So Stiles would leave it alone, for now at least. He figures, he can always interrogate the mysterious duo of Dawn and Connor later, once they actually get here. His pack can help.


End file.
